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Twilight stretched on in an increasingly loud reverie of beer bottles, barbecued chicken legs, and outlandish campfire stories, including a few of Nigel's own. His rarely involved anybody dying, or nearly so, save for dying of shame when revealed before an international audience. The men's edgy laughter and risqué jokes began to grate. Across the water, no more than a handful of tiny lights glimmered on boats or distant houses.
Nigel nursed a bottle of some cheap American swill. In the firelight, Devi tossed her head back, laughing along with them, the crimson and gold light painting her like a temple dancer. Sometimes she aimed a punch at a biceps, apparently matching them drink for drink. Maybe they noticed her swapping fresh, full bottles for empties, and maybe not. Maybe they truly believed she grew as drunk as they did, for even Nigel must agree she put on a convincing performance.
How long had it taken them to get here? Two hours or more—and that again to return, windblown and smelling of smoke, to their rented rooms. They ought to have left some time earlier.
He lifted his eyes from the crowd to the sky. "Ah, the Milky Way rises. It seems the perfect chance for some night photos, though I'm afraid it means parting company with all of you. Even the fire may prove too bright, and we do have an early start in the morning."
Devi's dark stare pinpointed him for a long moment before she said, "Party pooper," adding a flash of her teeth and a chuckle to suggest she meant no offense. She handed off a half-full bottle she'd been pretending to sip from for some time now. "Thanks, guys, really appreciate it!"
"Aw, man, can't you stay, Jessica?" Smitty asked. "I'll sing you a love song!"
General merriment ensued, but she waved him away. "That's nice, but no. What would he do without me?"
"I could go," Joe volunteered, looking hopeful. "Jessica. If you wanted to stay, I mean. I could hang out with Nigel."
He had been close most of the evening, as if every word Nigel spoke turned golden. A pleasant lad. Perhaps not too bright, but also, not Nigel's actual employee.
"Dude!" Gator chucked a handful of sand at Joe's knees. "We're your bros! You can't just leave us like that."
Devi's own response followed a moment later—a moment too late, in all honesty. "No, really, has to be me. I've got duties...and stuff." She waved her hand vaguely, and Nigel thought perhaps he should drive, though it'd likely take them twice as long to return.
Nigel dusted off, then started gathering their gear. "Might it be possible to return one of the buggies for you? If Jessica and I take it back to town?"
He considered the camera he'd set up near the dunes, protected from rogue winds by a clump of creosote brush, capturing the sunset and the bonfire's rise. It had both battery and storage capacity to roll until sunrise. Could ask the men to check it, or to take it in for him. If he wished to be any more beholden to them. No doubt they'd just continue to ignore it, as they had since he'd set it up. He could return for it tomorrow after their excursion with Arryo.
"Oh, sure, go ahead!" Gator grew more cheerful with each passing hour. Or each passing ounce. "The place is right outside of town. Black Warrior Sports." He sighed. "It's a good name. Wish I'd thought of it."
"About that computer, Nigel," Monty started.
Right. He had agreed to that, some time earlier. "We've got an early excursion, but I can leave it at the desk for you if you're not back before we go—just so you return it to them when you're done."
"Absolutely. This'll be a big help—I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I don't even know where to get a computer that's built in this century out here."
True enough. "No trouble. I won't need it until later in any case." He turned with a grand wave for the crew at large. "Thank you so much for a delightful evening!"
"Drive safe!" Joe told them as he waved back. "Maybe we'll see you around."
"I shall look forward to that." He tipped his hat to the young man, then headed toward the dune buggy with his camera clipped to the front.
"Bye, guys." Devi blew a kiss to the crew and waved as she walked to join him. Surely her hips didn't need to sway that much.
"Shall I—"
Devi climbed into the driver's seat. "Nope."
"I don't know if I'd let Hotshot drive," Monty called. "She was a little wild on the way out here, and that was in daylight."
"'Hotshot?'" Nigel cocked an eyebrow.
"Absolutely." Her voice sounded harder all of a sudden. She started up the vehicle with a surge that shot them away from the bonfire.
Nigel caught the bars and held on as she navigated the rugged land beyond the beach. They reached a flatter stretch, and Devi said, "Where to, Boss?"
"Toward home. We can pause near the lagoon and see if we can't capture the Milky Way's reflection."
"Right."
He barely made out her profile in the darkness, the buggy's round headlights beaming and bouncing out ahead of them. She liked those men. She felt comfortable among them, her countrymen and her kindred veterans. They spoke a language she understood, and his own excluded status likely had no resonance for her, especially given the presence of the marvelous Monty. "You wanted to stay, didn't you."
Devi shrugged. "Not my decision."
"Well, you are an adult, and thus," he began, but let the words trail away, his unease with the day, with the men, with her among them suddenly chimed against his memories, and all the things he knew that men too often didn't. "No," he said, "I couldn't have left you."
"Excuse me?" she cut him a look, then swung the vehicle smoothly inland, avoiding boulders and joining up with a narrow track that should cut off some time to the end of the lagoon.
He drew a deep breath, looking out at the desert and seeing, not Mexico, but Afghanistan, Syria, Turkey. All too many places. "Six large, drunk, lonely men, and one beautiful woman—no matter how deadly, no matter her skills. No. I couldn't."
"You saw me shoot back there, Nigel. I could've done better, but I didn't want to rub their noses in it. You don't think I could handle myself if they got nasty? Which I don't think they would, by the way."
"Mmm. I should like to know what you've observed about these men. When first we met them, I believe we both harbored some concerns, and now you seem very much at ease."
"While you believe they're criminals." She sat back in her seat, slowing a little, reducing the engine noise. "You're not completely wrong. From what I can tell, mostly by listening to Monty and reading between the lines, they're a clean-up crew. When a jobsite has problems, like employee misbehavior, projects falling behind schedule with no clear reason, cost overruns that aren't related to the job, overseas contractors will send in a team like this, especially if they're not sure they can trust local management. These guys are somewhere between enforcement and investigation. If some whips need cracking, folks believe these guys can crack them."
"Yes, I can imagine they would."
"Sometimes, maybe, they skirt the law." The wind blew her hair back from her face, and she kept her eye on the road.
"You know this sort of people."
"They have a past, Nigel. Which of us doesn't?" Her next turn seemed rather abrupt. "I don't just know them. I've been them."
That could explain the rather vague nature of her recent work experience, if not why she'd wish to take up with someone like him. Someone like him. But how much, really, was she like them? "They feel familiar, and thus you're comfortable among them. You want to be one of the boys," he murmured, "but you can't."
"Neither can you."
That stinging truth jabbed the breath from him for a long moment.
She cranked the buggy around a curve, then back the other direction, heedless of their speed or comfort. "I don't need a hero, Nigel. I don't need to be rescued."
The sky opened over them with a thousand, million stars. "Please accept my abject apologies." He drew a deeper breath. "I must admit, with all that I've seen, it may be very hard to restrain the urge to ride to your rescue." He swallowed. "I shall endeavor to do so."
She nearly smiled, or perhaps she nearly snapped. "That guy I mentioned? The one Monty reminds me of? Yeah. That's a big reason we're not together. He's got this hero complex like it's on him to save the world. It gets old."
"Mmm." It struck him as warning, that their partnership, too, might break up for similar reasons. "Has he reformed himself? Perhaps he could teach me how."
She let out one of those rare gales of laughter. "Got a feeling, Nigel, if he ever meets you, he'd want to smack you silly in five minutes or less."
Her laughter loosened something, and Nigel sighed. "That's a common reaction, I fear. That's why I'm best met on video."
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